One thing about this therapy is that it's foreign to American general public. Most people here have no idea what it is, let alone seeing the marks left on the flesh after applying the therapy, so when they do see them, it's very likely they would mistaken them as something else. I never realized this until an ER nurse who spotted two purple long stripes on my father's back asked in great concern about what was going on with those marks. What was surprising was that it was also my first time seeing them, from that angle anyway.

    When I was a kid, I saw a few times my grandma applying this particular therapy to my grandfather. He lay on his stomach with her kneeling next to him, and she repeatedly scrubbed his back with a ceramic spoon dunked frequently in a bowl of water to keep the edge of the spoon lubricated. The wood board bed my grandparents were on was about the level of my waist, so from my angle of view, when I saw it, I mostly saw the side of my grandfather. At that age, I spent time playing with other kids outside, so I saw it when I was running in and out of the house passing the room; I might stopped at the door of the room for a while, but I never really stayed in the room and took my sweet time examining the formation of the scrub marks.

     Anyway, back to what I was saying. My father was in the ER because he ran a high fever. Despite my mom's efforts trying to fix him, my dad's condition kept deteriorating, so she had no choice but took him to the hospital. It was quite early in the morning when I got the call from my mom. When I arrived there, my father was already admitted and a nurse was tending to him. And it happened--the nurse saw my father's back. The instant I heard the nurse's inquiry I knew what was going on in her mind, because, God, those two long purple stripes, to untrained eyes, looked like bruises. Really, really bad bruises. AND two large ones weren't something a nurse would or could overlook, so I immediately explained what those were and put an emphasis on its being a type of Chinese therapy in the hope that she wouldn't report it to the police. The last thing I, well, we, needed was a policeman showing up and asking questions.

     During the course of my father's stay in the hospital for the following week, I had to repeatedly explain my dad's bruises to other nurses and doctors who came to examine him; almost to the point I was about to draw in a deep breath, let out, and start explaining, in a dreary tone no less. Next time (not that I want it to happen to my dad again. Knock on wood), I'll just print this Wiki page out and show it to those healthcare professionals.